


Promises and Pretty Words

by orphan_account, summercarntspel



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/summercarntspel/pseuds/summercarntspel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapper's half-baked plan to get Margaret into bed goes awry in the best way possible. But will he get his comeuppance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises and Pretty Words

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a roleplay. Margaret was written by the lovely summercarntspel, and Trapper was written by inexceliousdeo.

The night air was still and crisp in the camp. Trapper’s footsteps were solid and soft on the ground as he crept to the tent. Reading the instructions on the door’s sign, he couldn’t help but smirk before he did as they said—“knock before entering.” He gave a few sharp knocks on the wood and then plunged his hands into his jacket pockets, making himself keep a straight face as he waited for the tent’s occupant to answer.

 

Margaret startled at the sudden loud knocking, jumping a bit as she brushed through her hair after her shower that evening. She wasn't expecting any company... She and Frank didn't have plans until Thursday, and it was only Tuesday. Feeling decidedly underdressed, she got to her feet and tightened the belt of her thin robe before she opened the door, immediately glaring at the man she found on the other side of it.

 

"What do you want?" There were no wounded, and it wasn't her night to make rounds, so Captain McIntyre had no business being at the door to her tent, as far as she was concerned. "I'm too tired for your shenanigans tonight, Captain."

 

“Shenanigans?” he replied coolly. “ _My_ shenanigans?” The act was already turning out to be surprisingly easy. He put on a hurt face and slumped his shoulders. “Boy, you sure know how to lead a guy on. You really had me goin’ after all that stuff you were tellin’ me last night. All those pretty things you said to me really meant nothing, huh?” At this, he let his gaze drop from her eyes, falling to her slender shoulders and then her chest, and if he hadn’t been putting on a show for her, he decided he might give a nice smile at the way her robe fell open just enough to reveal her soft neck and collarbones.

 

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, noticing the way he was gazing at her body and immediately tightening her robe further, already feeling flustered, her face starting to flush. There had been some hard drinking the night before, since it was the first casualty-free night they'd had in over a week, but other than the awful hangover she'd gone through that morning, she didn't remember much about the night before. Still, she couldn't have said anything compromising to him... could she? "What did I say to you?"

 

“You mean you don’t even remember?” Was he overdoing it? Hardly, he decided, and added a crestfallen sigh. “Guess it was pretty dense of me to think you really felt that way. I just thought…” he paused to gaze back at her face, gauging her reaction, delighted that she hadn’t already slammed the door right in his face. “Nah, never mind. When you told me to stop by your tent any night I felt like making good on all those promises, I shoulda just ignored it, huh?”

 

Margaret's eyes grew wide, her heart beginning to race. Had she really told him all that? She knew she could get pretty loose when she drank, especially around the handsome captain, but she couldn't remember a word of the conversation. Had she really let on about her crush so much that she’d invite him to her tent?

 

"I... I said that?" she asked, her shoulders sagging, fearing that she’d completely revealed her entire secret the night before, unsure of how to address it. "I'm sorry, Captain... That was wrong of me to say. I apologize if I... seemed too eager about the whole thing. But, I suppose if I said it, I must have been serious. About wanting you to stop by, I mean."

 

Trapper watched her thoughts play out on her face. The confusion, and then eventually the chagrin. And although things were playing out just the way he’d planned, he knew the battle wasn’t over yet.

 

“Nah, I’m sorry. Probably woulda been easier for both of us if I’d just forgotten everything, huh? It just all seemed so real, ya know?” He sighed again, but this time removed one of his hands from his pockets and placed it on the door frame just high enough to keep her feeling boxed in. “Gee, I musta woke you up, and… now I’m lettin’ all this cold air into your tent.” Finally he smiled, just slightly, the way he was almost certain would draw the right reaction.

 

"Oh, no, Captain, I wasn't asleep... but it is a little cold," she admitted, swallowing as she tilted her head up a bit, looking into his eyes, practically melting under his careful scrutiny. "If you'd like to come in, you're welcome to do so... I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings last night. I didn't mean to say those things, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. I must have overdone it, Captain, and I apologize. The least I can do after making such a fool of myself is to ask you in for a few moments."

 

“Well, since I’m already here,” he shrugged and at last gave in to himself, grinning at her wildly before reaching out at once and grasping her shoulders, turning her out of his way to slip past her into her tent. He could feel the way she tensed under his touch, and he released her, not wanting to push his luck quite yet. Once inside, he glanced around, saw her brush on her dressing table and thanked his lucky stars he’d gotten to her before she’d started to smear on her night cream. Confident now that he’d made it as far as he had, he unzipped his jacket and started to shrug it off, peering over his shoulder to make sure she could see his every move.

Margaret kicked herself mentally for the blush she could feel burning across her face. "I... I know I have a bit of brandy left in here somewhere, if you'd like some. I know I could certainly use a drink," she mumbled, stumbling over her words as she shifted through the things in one corner of her tent until she found the bottle. She showed it to him with a nervous little smile. Why did this man make her act this way? With any other officer, she felt confident and authoritative, but this whole situation caught her completely off-guard. She didn't feel like Major Houlihan, she just felt like Margaret. And there was a huge difference between the two. "Captain, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I'm embarrassed that I… offered myself so shamelessly."

 

“Uncomfortable? Me?” He slung his jacket over her chair and turned to face her. Her nerves were like a neon sign on her face. Was this really going to happen? There was only one way to find out, he thought, and he took a few slow, deliberate steps toward her. “Look, honey, I didn’t come here for brandy,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm again, sliding his hand up to her shoulder before leaning closer and pulling the bottle out of her hands. “Maybe we’ll have a drink later, hm?” At this, he started to bend in to kiss her, but stopped as he met her eyes. As attractive as he usually found that timid, uncertain look in other women, something about it on her didn’t entirely sit right.

 

She bit her lip, staring up at him, feeling herself grow tense, even more than she already was. She'd fantasized about this, sure— what woman in the camp hadn't thought about Captain McIntyre like that? She wasn't ashamed of it, not in the least, but this didn't feel right. When she dreamt of him, it was always special and beautiful, passionate and wild. But this didn't feel special at all.

 

"I-I don't... Captain, please, I don't know..." She stammered.

 

Trapper froze at that—that wasn’t at _all_ what he’d wanted to hear. Shaking his head at himself he let go of her arm at once and turned away from her, shoving his hands in his pockets and scuffing his boot on the floor of her tent.

 

“Alright, look. I might as well tell ya the truth,” he said, suddenly feeling completely stupid for ever thinking this was a good idea to begin with. “Sure, you were pretty drunk last night, and you know the way you get after we get enough Swamp gin into your gut. But you didn’t say anything more than ya usually do. Nothin’ about any promises, nothin’ at all about comin’ to see you. I made that part up, alright?” Then, hoping to avoid a hard slap across the face, he gathered up his jacket and started to pull it back on. “Sorry about all this. Let’s just forget it, okay?”

 

“Oh, God,” Margaret breathed. When his words began to sink in she almost felt dizzy. Reeling, she sunk down on her cot, a sickening mix of relief and disappointment tying her stomach into big, uncomfortable knots. She knew something didn't seem right about it, but that didn't mean she wasn't interested. It really didn't. "Captain, as much as I'd like to slap you right now, maybe even report this to Colonel Blake, I'm not going to... Do you mean that? Are you truly sorry?" Unable to bear looking at him any longer, she buried her face in her hands, so incredibly conflicted and upset for reasons she couldn’t name, reasons she didn't want to understand.

 

“I am sorry,” he said. “I feel like a crumb.” He stared at her back, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut to see her hunched over with her face buried in her hands. It wasn’t just that she was out of uniform—seeing her like this, he didn’t see a ranking officer, he saw a woman in distress. And he’d been the one to put here there. He knew he was probably on pretty thin ice already, but he crept around her cot and sat gingerly next to her, moving slowly, trying not to push her any more than he already had. “Anyway, it’s no fun chasing skirts when there’s not even a chase, you know?” he tried, smiling sheepishly, placing an arm around her shoulder, patting her on the back the same way he would Radar or Hawkeye.

 

"Are you saying I'm not worth it if I don't need to be coaxed?" she asked, finally raising her face from where it was buried in her hands, eyes red and shiny with unshed tears. She turned, looking at him and swallowing the lump rising in her throat, feeling her self-confidence level dropping as she thought about what he said and what it sounded like in her mind. Maybe he was right. If she was going to just give herself over, maybe she wasn't worth his time anyway. She felt so inferior, and for the first time in a long while she imagined the nurses under her charge and told herself they were all better than her. Better, more attractive, more fun... And even though none of those things ever bothered her before, now it hit her at once. It was only worth it when he thought he could fool her, thought he could play some cruel joke on her to get her back for all the things she'd done that he didn't like, and that stung. "I'm sorry I'm not worth your time, Captain. Feel free to go.”

 

Trapper sighed, getting frustrated fast. “That’s not at all what I’m saying,” he replied, all at once unsure how to cheer up a self-deprecating head nurse. “If I’d been in the mood for an easy lay I’d ‘a gone to some other tent. Girls that are easy, that aren’t very bright—yeah, they’re what a guy wants now and then. But a gal that’s got a head on her shoulders can be pretty seductive, too.” He paused, hoping any of it made sense. “You know what’s attractive about you? Besides, well…” Was now really the time to start undressing her with his eyes again? “You’re not a major because you’re regular Army, or because your daddy was regular Army. You got there yourself and you didn’t do it by being pushover.”

 

"And what has it gotten me? Sure, I outrank almost everyone in this camp, and almost everyone is afraid of me enough to give me a little respect now and then, but where has it gotten me with any sort of romance? Any sort of love? You think I want to be stuck fooling around with a married man who wants me to be both a mother and a lover to him? You really don't know me at all, McIntyre," she huffed, turning back away from him on the cot and biting her lower lip, staring down at her feet, clad in pretty pink slippers she'd gotten herself on her last R&R in Tokyo. "Sometimes it's nice to be so powerful. It is. But if you don't think that I wish I could just let loose like the rest of the girls for just one second, you're wrong, Captain. I love being a major and I love being a nurse, but I wish I could also just be a woman sometimes. A woman with feelings and needs... A woman who doesn't have to be so strong and rigid. So, thank you, but save your smooth talk for some other broad.”

 

Trapper’s frustration started to rise in his chest. Why did she have to get so complicated all of a sudden? Either way, it was still his fault. He gazed at her, his eyes lingering on her soft pink lip held between her teeth. Her flushed face turned away from him, trying to hold it together because it was expected of her. A major in the Army wasn’t supposed to cry. A head nurse at a MASH unit wasn’t supposed to break down. All at once, it made sense—the most she ever got from most people was a salute, not a caress. Sure, she deserved that respect, but she deserved a little more than that sometimes, too.

 

Hesitant, he reached forward, brought his fingertips to her cheek. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, and he brushed it out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. And then, without thinking, his fingers found their way down her now exposed neck, and he sighed at the smoothness of her skin.

 

“I think you can be both at the same time,” he said, softly. “A woman and a major, you know? If you can be all that, why can’t you be strong and delicate all together, too?”

 

Margaret shivered at the gentle touch of his fingers on her ticklish neck, her eyes fluttering a bit. She brought a hand up to wipe at her eyes, determined not to show him just how upset this whole thing made her, but something made her stop. Usually, she would do anything to hide weakness, but it didn't seem necessary to do that now. So, she turned back to him, a few tears falling onto her cheeks, streaking down her face as she stared at him, uncertainty and trust in him rising up from somewhere deep within her.

 

"You really think so?" she asked quietly, her voice almost too soft to hear, her eyes locking onto his gaze, carefully reaching for one of his hands, squeezing it when she locked her fingers with his, "You think I can be both? Could you ever see me as anything more than a superior officer who lives by the book? A Regular Army brat who’s hated by half her nursing staff? You could see past all that and find... find the woman beneath it all?"

 

“I already have,” he said, staring at their clasped hands, letting his thumb brush over the soft inside of her wrist. It was nice. Nicer, he thought, than lying his way into her cot and then probably getting put on report again once she figured it out. He met her eyes again and smiled at her, and his hand on her neck brushed over her hair again. She was soft, even when she was hard. He liked that, and he liked her smooth skin under his fingers. He felt certain now, and he closed his eyes as he leaned forward, tilting his head and bringing his lips to her neck, kissing her softly under her jaw.

 

Margaret let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his chapped lips kissing her so softly, so sweetly, her eyes closing as she relaxed let herself enjoy the touch. Sure, in Frank's twisted, selfish version of foreplay, sometimes he bit and nibbled at her neck, but he was always so rough. Having soft kisses being pressed to skin so delicate was such a contrast, such a nice change from what she had gotten used to in the time she had been assigned to the 4077th. "Oh, Captain, that's so nice" she mumbled, feeling herself coming undone at the seams, melting just a little more after every tiny kiss, her free hand carefully moving up his torso to hold onto his broad shoulder, "M-May I call you John?"

 

“Just don’t call me late to dinner,” he said, smiling as his lips brushed against her skin. He brought his arms around her, letting his hands settle in the small of her back and pulling her closer. He laid tender kisses all down her neck, moving to her throat as her head tilted back. His hands tightened in the back of her robe, and then slid up and down her spine, and he could feel her smooth back. He sighed to think that he’d caught her without so much as a brassiere under her robe. She felt so nice in his arms, her slight, warm body responding to his touch. His cock stirred in his fatigues and he gave in, lifting his face from her neck and moving to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers, letting out a heavy breath against her soft cheek.

 

Margaret let out a soft sound, the little noise escaping her parted lips before she had a chance to rein it back in, teeth digging into her lower lip a moment later as she blushed.

 

"You're a wonderful kisser," she murmured when he pulled away. Her hands slid up to lock behind his head, delicate fingers twirling the curls at the nape of his neck, watching the way his warm brown eyes seemed to turn darker and an intense, electric feeling started to build between them. She leaned in and kissed him again, not wanting to wait for him to take control that time, her head tipping as she shamelessly put all she could muster into the kiss.

 

“Mm,” Trapper sighed as her lips met his again. They were so invitingly soft. He tightened his grasp on her, squeezing her in her arms, digging his fingers into her back. God, but it was nice to kiss her. As if he hadn’t thought about it coming to see her in the first place—but he’d never imagined it would be like this. One hand found its way back over her shoulder and traced over the collar of her robe, pushing it aside slowly, letting his fingertips brush over her warm skin. He parted his lips against hers, teasing her lips with his tongue, hoping she’d do the same, hoping he could coax out a few more of those sweet, soft noises.

 

Margaret felt her face flushing, felt the blush reaching all the way down to her collarbone. It was arousal as much as any shamed she’d felt before. She'd heard her nurses whisper to each other about how wonderful he was in bed, how good he was at kissing and touching in just the right places, but she didn't fully grasp it all until she was the one being kissed and touched. She hesitantly let her lips open the slightest bit, inviting his tongue inside, the tip of her own grazing against it, wet and lazy and languid, pressing herself closer to him.

 

"Hmm..."

 

All at once, Trapper was absolutely certain about how she’d earned her nickname. Kissing her was like fire. He grunted and kissed her harder, tensing his lips, drawing her tongue against his, yearning suddenly to get as much of those ‘hot lips’ as he could. Forgetting all about trying to be decent, he let his hand slip under her robe at last, smoothing his palm over her silky shoulder, pulling at the robe, feeling it loosen against his wrist. He dipped his hand lower, and her skin felt like it was burning as he teased over her breast. He was sure he’d melt into her lap as he cupped his hand around her, brushing his thumb over her nipple.

 

Margaret arched a bit at the touch, her tongue sliding against his roughly, her hands busying themselves gripping at the stiff fabric of his drab jacket, pulling back just a bit after a moment or two. "You-you've got far too many layers on, John..."

 

“Hmm?” His mouth felt lonely without hers, and he pressed a few short, wet kisses against her lips as he pulled back, fumbling with his jacket. “Guess I thought… might be as chilly in here… like outside,” he mumbled between kissing her, tossing the jacket to the floor and crossing his arms to grasp at his t-shirt and peel it over his head. Indeed, it had suddenly become quite hot in the tent, and when he sat before her, naked from the waist up but for his dog tags, all he wanted was more of that heat. He returned to kissing her, tugging at the belt of her robe to pull it open and thrust his hands beneath the fabric, yearning to touch every inch of her hot, soft skin.

 

She shivered again at the touch, his big, strong hands rough against her skin, her own hands immediately coming up to run over the hard, solid muscles of his upper back and shoulders. All the time she'd stared at him in the compound while he and the other guys tossed a football around shirtless, all the times she'd stared at the way his muscles flexed and bulged couldn't have prepared her for the way it felt to have that sturdy body against her palms and the tips of her fingers.

 

"Oh, John..." she muttered into the kiss, pulling back just enough to trail her lips along his stubbled jaw, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses across every inch, "You drive me crazy... you know you drive me wild, don't you?"

 

“You _make_ me wild, honey,” he said, pulling her robe open the rest of the way. “Damn,” he sighed, gazing at her, feeling like he could devour her right then and there. Her short chest rising and falling for him, her breasts so enticing. He dove to her chest, kissing her below her collarbone and easing her back into her cot, grasping one breast again roughly with his hand, kneading with his palm before dragging his lips down to the other. He kneeled over her and kissed her, bringing his lips to her nipple and tracing his tongue over it, grunting to feel it harden under his touch. “That’s nice,” he said softly before doing it again, pursing his lips, sucking the sensitive skin between his teeth.

 

She tossed her head back against her pillow, letting herself lie there and feel every little touch and kiss, listening to every little noise his mouth made as he lapped and sucked at her nipple, feeling the other harden as her arousal grew and grew. Her eyes fluttered, rolling back a bit at the pleasure and excitement she felt coursing through her, something she hadn't felt in so, so long.

 

"Ohh..." she breathed, the word dragged out and broken, more of a desperate little moan than anything else, her back arching up slightly, wanting more, wanting whatever he was willing to offer her, "J-John... more, please, more..."

 

Her voice was so sweet. Trapper switched sides, turning on the cot and sucking at her other nipple, sighing with each labored breath as his cock stood at full attention to hear her saying his name and feel her moving beneath him. He wanted to give her more, plenty more. Now that she was asking for it, responding so welcomingly to his touch and he could really trust that she wasn’t going to turn him away, he slipped his hand down her body, over her taught stomach and navel, and traced his fingertips over the edge of her lace panties before sliding it the rest of the way, dipping his hand between her legs.

 

“Christ,” he choked out, stroking her, feeling her damp, hot arousal through the thin fabric.

 

Margaret gasped, rolling her hips the slightest little bit at the feeling, her legs tensing for a moment before they relaxed again, her breath coming out in harsh pants and little whines by that point. God, she was fairly certain she'd never felt so turned on before. She felt so helplessly virginal, like a schoolgirl getting touched for the first time, her head swimming, everything seeming to get hotter and foggier with every passing second. "God, don't tease me..."

 

Really, she expected him to just take her then and there, and she would have been completely, totally fine with that. All the touching and teasing was wonderful, sure, but it was just this side of too much, and she really didn't know what to do. She hadn't been properly taken care of in a long, long time and she wasn't certain how she should react.

 

He wanted to tease her. Her body was electric. He wanted to fuck her, but almost as badly, he wanted to hear her moan his name again and again. He wanted to make her feel good enough she’d forget everything _but_ that name. Easing up off the cot, he lowered himself to the floor, kneeling before her and running his hands over the creamy white insides of her thighs, dragging his nails just softly over her skin before bringing them back up and easing down her panties, sliding them down her legs and pulling them off to toss them aside onto his discarded clothes.

 

He had to gaze at her before anything else. He dragged his eyes like knives over the dip of her stomach to the silky brown curls (so she _was_ a bottle blonde!) and then beyond that. He ran one hand back up her leg, stopping at the crease of her thigh, glancing up to study her face and give her a crooked grin.

 

“Frank ever do somethin’ like this for ya?” he asked.

 

She gasped at the feeling of his fingers so close to her, her body rocking the slightest bit on the cot as she fought back the urge to laugh out loud at such a ridiculous question. Frank Burns concerned about pleasing her? That was probably the funniest thing she'd heard all week. But she wouldn't let him know that... not yet, anyway.

 

She smirked, running the tip of her tongue over her lips and staring down at him, allowing her legs to fall open a bit more, giving him more room. His touch, his kisses—it all made her feel so much more like herself. She could scarcely remember crying.

 

"Depends what you're planning to do for me, John... Captain Pierce won’t always be around to talk for you. You need to learn to use your own words sometimes, you know," she purred, kicking off her slippers and hearing them land somewhere behind him, her feet resting on either side of his forearms, "What're you going to do, huh?"

 

“I’m gonna have you for dessert,” he said, smirking right back up at her, licking his lips lewdly before kneeling closer to her, bending down and running his fingers down either side of her welcoming cunt, holding her apart with his hand. He sighed, feeling almost dreamy at how wet she already was for him, and how hard she was, too. He dragged the tip of his thumb over the bump, knowing it wasn’t going to take too much to drive her over the edge. He opened his mouth and replaced his thumb with his tongue, licking her slowly at first, tasting all of her sweet, wet arousal. God, she was ready, she needed to be fucked right into her cot, but he couldn’t just give it to her for nothing. His cock throbbed at him almost angrily in his pants, he wanted her so badly. “You got a nice box, honey,” he dared, glancing up at her before bringing his lips to her clit again, sucking it gently and flicking the tip of his tongue the way he knew would draw the right reaction.

 

Margaret moaned and thrashed at the sensation, something she’d rarely had done to her, wondering how anything could possibly feel so damn good. Her breathing was even harsher than before, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lungs straining. When his nasty comment registered, she kicked at his shoulder weakly with one foot before her knees came together behind his head, holding him right there, right where she wanted him, needed him to be.

 

"O-Oh, God..." she hissed, passion burning through her, feeling like some electric spark, his talented tongue doing things she'd never imagined anyone doing to her, "John... John, oh, God..."

 

“Mmm…” He groaned against her, licking her harder, slurping at her needy wetness and his own spit. He could feel her tensing against his mouth, getting closer every moment. Frank was an idiot if he couldn’t do this to her, he thought. She was so fucking gorgeous laid out like this, her hips twitching and legs trembling on either side of her head. He sucked on her clit and trailed his fingers over the enticing, delicious wet folds. She must’ve felt so nice… He gave in and turned his hand, slipping his middle finger inside her, groaning again at the silky heat inside her, making him burn all over. _C’mon, come for me, sweetie,_ he thought, adding a second finger and plunging them into her, dragging them against that soft, spongy spot inside her while he lapped at her clit furiously, determined to hear her moan and cry out her orgasm for him.

 

This was it. She wanted it to go on for hours and hours, wanted to feel him touching her and tonguing her forever, but should couldn't fight the overwhelming feeling any longer. She sucked in a sharp breath before she cried out, her knees knocking together as her body tensed up, waves of pleasure and bliss rolling over her. Her eyes rolled back, vision going fuzzy as she stared at the canvas above her head. Christ, this was so much nicer than faking it... so, so much nicer.

 

"John..." she cried desperately, the name sounding more like a drawn-out whine, feeling his fingers slide back out of her, panting and trying to catch her breath, as pleasure ripped through her. "Oh, John... that’s so... wonderful..."

 

She sounded so gorgeous calling out to him like that. He almost didn’t want to stop. He wanted to keep going, to drag another out of her, to lick her until she was delirious for him. But the sound of her voice calling his name was entirely too much, and he couldn’t stand it. Giving a few last licks, he pulled away and gasped for breath, reeling as her wetness dried on his skin. His eyes raked her body, so prone and wanton as she came down from her orgasm, gazing up at him with glassy eyes. You couldn’t fake that, he mused, and clambered back onto the cot above her.

 

“Margaret,” he whispered, kneeling over her and kissing her softly on the corner of her mouth. He stroked the front of his pants so she could see, working at the button. “C’n I put it in? Please? You’re so pretty, I can’t think straight,” he breathed. “I mean it, you’re really somethin’ else, honey.”

 

The question caught her off guard, but when the meaning behind it finally worked through the blissful fog clouding her mind, she just smiled up at him and brought a hand up to tangle in his curls, dragging him down for a long, sweet kiss, blushing to taste herself on his lips and to feel the way his clothed hardness pressed against her bare thigh.

 

"Yes, John... Please, I need it," she breathed, staring up into his eyes for a moment, "I want it to be good for you, too. You were so good for me, let me be good for you..."

 

Trapper leaned into the kiss, sighing at her fingers in his hair. He was so hot for her, he couldn’t stand it. Reluctantly he pulled away from her and rolled off the cot, kneeling to the floor to fumble with his jacket, digging through the pockets for the rubbers he’d brought along, more than a little chagrinned to think of how he’d originally imagined it happening. He clutched one between his teeth and rose to his feet, standing over her and watching her lay languidly below him. He could just about visualize her sprawled out on a big, soft bed with white sheets, smiling at him in the morning sun instead of the dim lamplight of the mildewy tent…

 

Shaking the thought out of his mind, he undid his pants and eased them down, and followed them with his shorts, the waistband catching on his cock. He let it bounce back up to see her before spitting into his hand and then stroking himself, the fire in his gut burning hotter as he stared at her fantastic body. Her breasts rising softly with each ragged breath. Her cunt dripping with need for him. He tore open the rubber and dropped the wrapper to the floor, kneeling back onto the cot between her legs, grasping her knees and pushing them further apart as he settled closer to her.

 

She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she looked up at him, feeling nothing but trust and faith in him. He was big. Bigger than Frank by far, and she sighed with awe to imagine how wonderful he’d feel. She needed desperately to feel every wonderful inch of him inside her. With the way he was smiling at her, how could she want anything else?

 

"I'm ready for you,” she encouraged, biting her lip, "Don't hold back. You won't break me."

 

“I’m not worried about that. If I was afraid of breakin’ you, I wouldn’t’a come here.” He held his cock steady and teased the tip over her entrance, wetting the rubber before pushing in, groaning loudly at the feeling of her. She was so hot inside, so slick. He could feel her welcoming him in, muscles fluttering around him. He sucked in a hard breath and shuddered, grabbing her legs and dragging her further down the cot, pulling her closer and tilting her hips off the bed, digging his fingers into her thighs and driving his cock into her, clenching his teeth and staring down at her.

 

“Shit, Margaret,” he muttered. She felt so fantastic. She was so wet for him, he could feel his thighs becoming slick and slapping against her skin.

 

She let loose a loud moan at the feeling of him taking her so deep, the perfect balance of rough and gentle, their bodies molding together in what she dared to imagine was almost the perfect way. She felt him sliding in and out, so hot and hard and heavy inside her, and it was every bit as wonderful as being eaten out.

 

"John... John, oh, God," she whined, gripping his big, broad shoulders, digging her nails in as she held onto him tightly, feeling the cot rock along with them, "John, harder..."

 

He grunted, blinking beads of sweat out of his eyes and straining over her, driven by the need in her voice. God, how could he last? But he gritted his teeth and pressed on, bracing himself over her, throwing back his head at the feeling of her nails in his shoulder and screwing her for all she was worth.

 

“Ah, fuck,” Trapper breathed as she clenched around him. He heaved with his shoulders, driving his cock into her harder and harder with each thrust, wondering if he’d make her bones rattle. He wanted to lose himself in that mesmerizing heat. He wanted to hear her scream his name, wanted to feel her come with his cock in her.

 

She moved with him, her hips pressing up against him, letting out a howl of pleasure at the feeling of him going so deep, so hard up inside her, her eyes fluttering as she began to gleam with sweat herself. She had a feeling she wouldn't be faking this orgasm, either.

 

Her nails dug in deeper, pulling him down against her, feeling his body pressing against hers, their skin sticking together with sweat and her own wanton wetness. "Am-am I enough to make you come?" She whispered into his ear, her voice rough and distant but taking on the dirty talk with ease. “Do you want… want to come inside me, John?”

 

Trapper gave a short smile and gritted his teeth, considering her question as he moved quicker, harder, the muscles in his back screaming at him. But he kept going, trying to fuck more of her pretty words out of her, dragged in with each spasm around him. It was all too much, he knew. His balls were tight and his gut wrenched. He dropped his head to her shoulder, letting his mouth hang open as he kissed her neck. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and gave a few more shallow thrusts before he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He shuddered over her and tried to stifle a groan as he came, giving up and letting his voice out against her soft skin.

 

At the feeling of his dick twinging deep inside her, knowing he was shooting off into his rubber, she came for a second time, clenching tight around his length as she let out her own joyful cry, turning her head so that she could kiss him, all open-mouthed, wet, and blissfully happy, letting herself ride out the pleasure until it faded into a gentle, dreamy euphoria.

 

"Oh, John," she giggled tiredly, carding her fingers through his messy, sweaty curls, a little smile on her face as she stared up at him, pecking the corner of his lips, "God, you're wonderful."

 

He collapsed onto her, laying heavily on her, panting and gasping from the exertion. He hadn’t realized he’d pushed himself so hard.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “You’re not bad yourself. Might just about be one a’ the best pieces I had since I got to Korea.”  Rolling his head lazily, he kissed her again and brushed her hair out of her face, gazing tiredly into her eyes and smiling tiredly before dropping to her shoulder again. “Jesus. Gimme a minute, okay, beautiful?”

 

She smiled, nodding sleepily and nuzzling him as she took a few deep breaths, her heart fluttering a bit at the pet name.

 

"Thank you, John..." she whispered in his ear, kissing his sweaty temple and letting out a slow, happy sigh when she felt a bit more aware of what was going on. "You worked pretty hard, you know..."

 

“Aw, c’mon, don’t thank me,” he grinned sheepishly, glad she couldn’t see him blush. He felt like he could’ve laid there with her forever. All at once he was so grateful it’d worked out the way it had. Would it have felt anywhere as nice if he’d lied to her? “I could make love to you every day,” he said before he was entirely sure why. “You’re so pretty. You know you drive just about every guy in this camp crazy?” Kissing her cheek again, he added, “Maybe I should thank _you_ , huh?”

 

Her face flushed a bit at his words, smiling softly and pressing a kiss to his cheek as well, gently drumming her fingers up and down his back slowly. And then as they all sank in, she sighed. Something about the praise didn’t sit right. It had felt so very wonderful, and laying here with him did, too. But it wasn’t right. What kind of a head nurse would go around sleeping with two married men? What would her girls think of her if they knew that she too had fallen prey to the man’s rugged body and boyish charm?

 

Biting her lip, she tipped her head a bit, knowing what she had to do, needed to do, even though it made her ache inside to do it.

 

"Thank you, John. Really, it’s all very sweet. But..." she whispered, her smile fading quickly. "I think you should go. It was wonderful, but let's not... Neither of us are making sense right now. Neither of us has been thinking straight. We’re officers and we need to think with our heads, not our bodies.” Was that enough? She could hardly convince herself. “Anyway, I need to get some sleep and so do you. In your own tent.”

 

He lifted his tired head to study her face, trying to figure out if she’d really said what he’d just heard. She didn’t look like she was joking.

 

“So that’s it, huh?” he stuttered, struggling to sit up on his weak arms. “That’s all I get from you? Thanks and goodbye?” He shook his head, amazed at the sting of the blow. He managed to roll off of her and yank off the rubber, tossing it angrily onto her floor for her to find later. He bit on the inside of his cheek as he sat wearily on the edge of her cot, pulling up his shorts over sticky skin and haplessly buttoning his fly.

 

And then, fuming, suddenly humiliated without quite knowing why, he gazed back at her. He knew he was only angry because of how much it hurt to be rejected. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes again, so he stared at his hands in his lap, praying that he wasn’t blushing too hard, or his voice wasn’t too tense.

 

“Guess this means I don’t have a shot at a second round, huh?” He tried, forcing a smile through his frustration, hoping she wouldn’t catch on to how hard she’d really hit him.

 

"We're in no position to talk like that right now. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but I have no other answer," she sighed, sitting up and pulling on her underwear, retying her robe before she leaned closer, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, "We can talk about it some other time. For now, let's just go to bed. Goodnight, Captain."

 

Captain. Whatever happened to calling him by his name? He stiffened at the kiss and said nothing as he gathered up his t-shirt and pulled it back on. He couldn’t even look at her. He knew he only had himself to blame, but telling himself that didn’t seem to soften the blow. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about how nice his real name had sounded when she said it? He stood and pulled on his jacket, turning up the collar, feeling like he could’ve pulled himself into it like a turtle in its shell.

 

At last he stole another look at her. She’d already put her robe on. Why not dig the knife in deeper—maybe she’d get up and finish putting her hair up for the night like nothing had happened at all. He could’ve kicked himself for thinking like that. This was stupid. He shouldn’t feel like this when the reason he was here in the first place would have hurt her far worse than what she’d said to him. He sighed and turned to her, bending down and bringing his fingertips to her chin again, tilting her head up and kissing her softly, slowly on the lips, letting himself linger a few moments longer than he knew he should have.

 

“Goodnight, Major,” he said, turning without another word and leaving her tent, letting the door slam shut behind him as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, wondering why his lips suddenly tasted so very bitter.

 

As soon as he was gone, she buried her face in her hands and let out a sigh, her eyes starting to water again. Damn it, when he first came to her, he was just looking for sex. She would have thought acting like it was nothing but sex would make him happy, but it clearly didn't. She hated how angry he sounded, hated the way she spat out her rank instead of her name. Maybe they could work it out, but she had a feeling nothing could fix it now. Damn it, why couldn't she ever make the right decision?

 


End file.
